Wild, 'Cause You Left Me Here
by Sus
Summary: Vincent remembers Heather, but will she know what he meant to Alessa before it's too late?


Heather felt at the end of her tether. "Ha." She thought, "That rhymes. Haha. Ha." She shook her head. _Get a grip. _She stood in the tiny library, a place that felt almost safe (if only because the walls weren't changing shape and there was a light source present) gathering her thoughts, gathering her strength.

The door clicked open and she tensed slightly, and there came footsteps, nonchalant, unconsidered footsteps, and she knew it was him, she could smell his cologne, she could hear the oddness of his breathing. She turned.

Sure enough, Vincent came into view. He stopped, looking surprised and actually pleased to see her. "Hiya Heather!" She narrowed her eyes. The feeling was not mutual.

"You show up everywhere, don't you?" she said sullenly. His face changed. He looked hurt. He actually looked hurt! Something in this expression was familiar for a fleeting second and then gone as he regained his composure.

"You make me sound like some kind of unwanted pest." He said flirtatiously, disgustingly. She snorted, having none of this.

"Who are you anyway?"

"Haven't you realised that yet?" he said. Was he mocking her? His voice was low and full of meaning that she couldn't quite fathom. Angry, she struck out with something she knew would make him react: the accusation of being Claudia's accomplice. His voice when he replied was flat and threatening.

"I told you not to put me in the same category as that madwoman."

"Well you're pretty loony yourself!" she snapped back. She was blushing and she knew it. Damn, she had no experience with his kind of flirt. He smiled again, glad she was flustered, glad to be in control. He said something he clearly thought was soothing, reassuring, something about not agreeing with Claudia, but Heather barely heard him.

"Why did you help me out then?" she asked, painfully aware of how much like a sulky teenager she sounded. _God, he must think I'm such a petulant kid. As if it mattered! _"Was that also part of trying to "resurrect god!"?" she was trying to modulate her tone from 'pouting kid' to 'world-weary and sarcastic', with limited success. Vincent was assuming the role of the mature, soothing mentor, blathering about how he somehow believed he could worship what passed for god around here and not be a raving lunatic. Heather snorted and called his god a devil, willing him to get angry, to shout, to react, dammit. Infuriatingly, he brushed it aside.

"Whichever you like. The point is that now I _really am _on your side!" he said, waving his hands about in his usual hyperactive fashion (something else prodded against the part of her brain that wanted to believe it had seen this before, somewhere, sometime), "I don't want god to be born. it wouldn't be convenient - much too unpredictable."

He took several steps towards her. She floundered, torn between the desire to escape and the promise of having him closer, something she couldn't say she was entirely against. "So you're using me to stop Claudia, is that it?" she blurted. "Do your own dirty work!"

He cocked a sardonic eyebrow. "_My_ dirty work? I think we both had our own interests in mind. You hate her too, don't you?" Heather looked away. "You're the only one who can get it done. I don't have powers like you two." Heather laughed slightly, embarrassed, thinking that yes, he did have powers, and unfortunately they were acting on her at that very moment. She hoped it didn't show on her face, but something must have, because he seemed to take it as encouragement and smirked slightly he leaned towards her, with eyes promising nothing but depravity, and said "Besides - I always hated getting all hot... and sweaty."

_Damned if you're going to get away with that one! _thought Heather, and rallying, she cocked her own head at him, mustered up all the flirtatiousness that consorting with teenage boys had kindled in her and riposted with the brilliant "Oh... really?"

For a second he looked flustered himself, clearly not expecting her to flirt back, and Heather felt almost giddy. Then his filthy smile reappeared, and he took yet another step towards her. One more step and she'd be pinned against the table. "Well, I suppose it depends entirely on the cause... I have been known to be persuaded into such an undignified state in the past..." he said, and his mouth floated dangerous near to her ear. She took a deep breath.

"I don't want to be just another indignity to you." she said, part of her telling her mouth to _stop talking, you might drive him away! _but most of her not trusting this handsome (familiar) stranger an inch.

"Oh, no" he breathed into her ear, "Though you don't seem to know it, you are a lot more than that."

"I know who I am to you folks anyway! I know I am… I used to be… Alessa, the mother of your god, or whatever, and I don't care for it." she said unhappily. He looked taken aback.

"You don't? Don't you like the idea of having all that power over us… over me?" he grinned. She coloured, just slightly. She hated that he could make her feel so flustered, not only by hinting at her past but with his glib flirtatious manner and his dark green eyes-

Ugh, why was she thinking this way?!

"If all I am to you people is some kind of living, walking womb for some demon you've all decided to worship, then I don't want any part of that power." she said firmly. He smirked, but it didn't reach his eyes. They looked somehow sad.

"You really don't remember." He said, starkly. "Can it be? You don't remember me?"

"You knew Alessa?" she said. He nodded, just once. His smirk was gone.

"I knew her very well." he said. "Look at me." Almost pleading, lust mingled with something else in his voice. "Look me in the eye, and tell me you can't remember."

She looked up and caught his piercing green eyes, realising one of them wasn't quite right, and she remembered. "You… you've got a lazy eye. I remember… telling you it was cute."

His face lit up. He took a step forward. "Do you remember anything else?" he said, his voice low and slightly hoarse. She shuddered slightly. "Do I scare you?" She wanted to say yes, and no, and stop, and please keep doing it, so she compromised by saying nothing. She was remembering:

A little boy, younger than she (which was funny given that the man before her was around a decade her senior), at her hospital bedside, not her only visitor but the only one she wanted to see. He would talk about things; his days (eventful), his friends (few), his hopes (numerous). A few times she had visited his dreams. She could do that. She liked to give nightmares, but never to him.

Heather's eyes opened wide. "I do remember! I remember you Vincent!" to find such a pleasant memory where all she had thought was pain was astonishing. The part of her that was Alessa had given her nothing but bitterness until now. She remembered wishing she could get out of her bed and follow him off into his dreams, and into his future.

She remembered all this in less than a minute, and at the end of the minute he kissed her.


End file.
